


the beginning

by pyblos



Series: back at the beginning with you [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/M, Red String of Fate, Reincarnation, Royalty, Soulmates, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:00:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28263537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyblos/pseuds/pyblos
Summary: "we were strangers, starting out on a journeynever dreaming, what we'd have to go through"only when you are lost does the red string of fate appear — in which you and tsukishima find each other for the first time
Relationships: Matsukawa Issei/Reader, Tsukishima Kei/Reader
Series: back at the beginning with you [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2070516
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	1. the ball of broken hearts

It wasn’t as if you didn’t want to be here. You did, you really did, but how could you enjoy a ball thrown in your honor when your parents had been murdered just a few days prior to this? It seemed like a cruel joke, to be expected to twirl around in a gaudy dress and perfect smile when the weight of your grief made you want to do nothing more than curl up in a ball and scream.

But for the sake of your kingdom, you had to. You would play the part of a perfect princess for as long as they needed you to. The war and multitudes of assassins had made you the last remnant of the royal family, and you were all your country had left to count on.

(Your crown has always felt more like a collar than a symbol of your sovereignty, and tonight it weighs even heavier than it usually does, choking you, stealing the breaths you so desperately sought.)

“Your highness, it’s time.” Akasuki, your lady of the bedchamber, spoke, effectively chasing away your thoughts.

A deep breath. Two. Three.

Straightening your back, you tilted your chin up. Tonight, you would put on a show. Let them see that the crown princess was more than a spoilt royal. Tonight, you would dance and smile and laugh until they were convinced that you were ready for your coronation. 

You were led down the unfamiliar hallways of pale stone and shimmering gold, nothing short of the stunning extravagance the Tsukishima adored flaunting, but so unlike the cool brown and blacks of your own castle walls. The firelight illuminated your shimmering ball gown, surrounding you with an almost luminescent glow. 

The guards escorting looked a little dazed every time they stole a glance at you, your etherealness commanding their attention. Good, let them be dazzled by your beauty. That meant that no one would be looking further than your skin.

“Her Royal Highness, Crown Princess Y/n.”

The large doors to the ballroom flung open and you swept into the room, shining so brightly for a moment that the guests were momentarily blinded.

You were guided down the large staircase and settled into a pale marble throne, not unlike the castle walls. The practiced smile stayed plastered on your face all the while, never once wavering even as you felt the weight of their scrutinising stares. 

There you remained, on display for the subjects of two kingdoms to ogle at, to tear apart with their judgment. Your gaze never once flickered away from those who blatantly stared, almost daring them to come forward and challenge you, even as you kept up a light conversation with King Tsukishima.

A pale hand extends itself to you and you follow it back up to its owner; a tall, lean blond with his head inclined in a reluctant bow, an artificial smile plastered on his handsome features.

“May I have this dance, your highness?” The disinterest in his voice was poorly veiled, and you knew he was only asking out of courtesy, the sharp looks shot at him by his mother not going unnoticed.

You were tempted to turn him down just to see what would happen, but you knew better than to do so. Your kingdom needed this alliance after all, and it would not reflect well on you to antagonise their crown prince.

“I would be honored.” You stood up and slid your hand into his, allowing him to lead you onto the dance floor-

Wait, was that-

“Prince Tsukishima,” you gasped out, halting dead in your tracks, eyes pinned upon the blood-red string that was entwined around your linked hands. For the first time that night, your impenetrable mask had slipped, your stone-cold smile fading into one of twisted incredulity and wonder.

He whirled around, eyes flashing in annoyance as he opened his mouth to say something, but the words died out as he realized what you were staring at.

“You- you’re the one?” He sounded disbelieving, an indecipherable look in his eyes.

You bristled at his tone, fighting the urge to yank your hand out of his.

“It seems so,” you slipped back into your careful indifference, attempting to brush this off like it hadn’t shaken you to the core.

Even his eyes widened in astoundment, he remained composed enough to guide the both of you onto the dance floor, joining in on the ongoing waltz. You avoided his gaze, staring at everywhere but his face where you were sure disgust was present.

“Hey, look at me.” The gentleness in his voice was enough to throw you off guard, and you raised your head to look at him. His eyes were a warm brown, you realized with a start, much like the shades of your castle walls. “I don’t- I don’t hate this. Or you.”

You blinked at him, slightly confused and put out by his choice of words. Irritation began to flare within you and it must have shown in your expression, because Prince Tsukishima was quick to continue his words.

“It’s just not the right time for me,” he jerked his head slightly, “this, right now.”

“Not the right time for you?” You let out a scoff, your features straining as you fought back the sneer that threatened to appear. “I just lost my parents, and I have to run a kingdom on my own with no successors in the likely event I die, and you say it’s  _ not the right time for you _ ?”

Whatever little softness that had seeped into his eyes was now replaced by a burst of fury so intense that had you recoiling slightly.

“I lost both my brother and best friend, and gained a title I never asked for,” Prince Tsukishima hisses at you, careful to keep his expression neutral, even as his tone bites at your crumbling mask. “You’re not the only one who has lost someone important to this  _ stupid _ war.”

You stumbled back, heels catching on the hem of your ballgown. He gripped you tighter, almost as if he was trying to anchor himself instead of preventing you from falling.

“I-” You didn’t know what to say. Had you been so caught up in your own pain and misery, so guarded to the point where you had missed the hurt mirrored in his eyes?

“I wasn’t the Tsukishima you were supposed to marry. That was my brother, Tsukishima Akiteru,” he continued on, voice trembling on the brink of tears. “He was out on the frontlines trying to save my best friend, at  _ my _ request.  _ I _ got them killed.”

His body tightened beneath your grip, and you felt the weight of his words settle upon your weary shoulders. Another death, another burden to carry. There isn’t anything you could say right now, not under the scrutinizing gaze of vultures waiting for a sign of weakness. So you squeezed him lightly, and you felt the tension easing, just ever so slightly.

As the waltz came to a close, you slid your hand into his, the red string curling around your wrists. He seemed to take the silent cue, and the two of you slipped out of the ballroom, where Tsukishima led you through the hallways, up a staircase, and onto a balcony that overlooked the gardens.

Even as the two of you stood there, leaning against the cool stone, your hands remained linked.

“I was the one who suggested cutting down on the number of guards in the castle to reinforce our army.” You broke the silence first. “The assassins broke in that night, and they killed everyone. I only got away because-”

Your throat tightened, forcing your words to a halt.

The string seemed to tighten around your pinky, even as his grip remained constant. The small gesture gave you the strength to continue, even as your voice wavered.

“My head guard,  _ my best friend _ ... he managed to get me out in time, and he defended me with his life.”

“It seems like we’re bound by loss, aren’t we?” A cynical chuckle escaped his lips.

Your lips tipped up in a sad smile. “It seems like it.”

The two of you stood there in silence for a while, staring out at the palace gardens. You couldn’t help but stare at the string that linked the two of you.

“Who was he? Your best friend,” Tsukishima asked.

“He,” you took in a deep breath, steadying your trembling breaths. “He was the most amazing man I have ever met. Matsukawa Issei.”

A sharp inhale from Tsukishima told you that Issei’s reputation preceded him.

“Yeah, the great Matsukawa Issei who held an entire army back on his own, is the same Mattsun that guarded the spoilt Crown Princess who never ventured further than the edges of her castle grounds.” Your chest tightened, and the memory of Issei’s smile burned, a reminder of the sacrifice he had been forced to give.

“Issei brought the world to me, in little trinkets and beautiful descriptions of the wild. He gave me everything he could, did anything just to make sure I was happy. And I used to joke around, asking him if he would die for me.” Your smile turned bitter. “I never thought that would become a reality.”

Tsukishima squeezed your hand, a soft exhale passing from his lips before he spoke.

“His name was Yamaguchi Tadashi. He was a peasant boy I had met when I followed the head cook to the market. Yamaguchi was being bullied by this group of boys, and I couldn’t sit back and watch that happen, so I helped him. I didn’t know that in doing so, I would gain my first and only friend, and that he would continue to help me as we grew.”

“Then the war started, and he was yanked away from me by the commands of the military, right into the front lines. I begged my parents to do anything to get him out of there or let me fight with him. Evidently, they said no.”

“I turned to my brother then, and he agreed to sneak out onto the front lines to find him when he had to go for the next war meeting. We all know how that ended.”

Something wet dripped onto your linked hands, and you watched as glistening teardrops splashed onto your skin, sliding down into the red string. You followed it back up to Tsukishima’s face, where his eyes were clenched shut, face twisted in an attempt not to cry.

“It’s not your fault,” you whispered, disgustingly aware of the hypocrisy present in those words. Who were you to absolve his guilt when you couldn’t even forgive yourself for a crime you hadn’t committed? 

“Then it’s not yours either,” he threw back, though there was no malice in his tone.

It was your turn to shut your eyes, fighting the burning in your eyes. Your mask had all but fallen to pieces, and you weren’t about to let the remnants fall away now. You couldn’t afford to.

“Tell me more about him, about your Issei,” Tsukishima said softly.

“Only if you share about your Yamaguchi.” 

There the two of you stood, hands intertwined as you swapped stories of your lost confidants under the gentle glow of the moon, the murmurs of the ball playing in the background. 

Angry whispers rushing past your balcony caught your attention. Tsukishima stepped slightly in front of you as the doors burst open.

“Your highnesses!” A knight pants out, face red and sweaty. “We’ve been looking all over for you!”

“We merely stepped out for a breather.” You said cooly, your features slipping startling quick into a glittering cool smile.

“It’s not safe,” another knight stepped forward, out of the shadows.

“Sir Kageyama,” Prince Tsukishima greeted the guard coldly. “Sir Hinata.”

“Your highnesses, please come back inside.” Sir Hinata begs, recovering from where he had bent over in exhaustion.

“We’ll come back in when we’re ready.” The tall blonde waved a dismissive hand at them, and Sir Kageyama seethed, steam practically pouring out of his ears.

“Listen up you spoilt brat-” “Kageyama don’t-” “Your mother is worried sick about you, terrified that she’s going to lose another son, and here you are cosying up with your betrothed before the marriage ceremony?”

You hadn’t even realized Tsukishima had let go of your hand until he had Sir Kageyama pressed up against the wall, fist curled up in the knight’s tunic.

“Shut up.” He gritted out. The shoulders of his suit pulled taut, and you recognized the venom in his voice. It was one you had struck out at others with, often, and one that you knew would result in bloodshed.

“Prince Tsukishima,” you laid a hand on his tense shoulder. “We should go in anyway, the ball’s about to end.”

Sir Hinata shot you a grateful look when Tsukishima let go of his companion, and you wrapped an arm around his, tugging lightly to guide him back to the ongoing ball.

The two knights bowed, albeit one more stiffly than the other.

“Do you think they’ll notice if we skipped the end of the ball?” Tsukishima murmured, shifting your hand so it rested more comfortably around his arm.

Your lips quirked up in a genuine smile, just for a split second, before you fixed it back into your usual hollow one.

“I don’t know, you tell me if they’ll notice the crown heirs are missing when our betrothal is announced.”

“Fair enough,” he sighed. “I guess we’ll have no choice but to go back then.”

“Lead the way, my prince.”

  
  



	2. the silent song of souls

Bone-chilling screams echo off the stone walls, bouncing through the corridors as people run mindlessly about the castle, Shadows dance upon the walls, touching briefly before scattering, blending into the dark walls of the castle.

“Issei,” you breathe out, placing a worried hand on your best friend’s shoulder.

“I know, but it’s not safe. You have to stay in here.” Matsukawa pats your hand reassuringly. His expression betrays his emotions however, thick brows furrowed in worry as his usual sleep clouded eyes are now alert. No matter how much he tries to comfort you, every sound from outside your chambers has his hands twitching towards his sword.

You stare into the blinding flames of the fireplace, eyes transfixed by the way they dance about, burning up they touch. Worry and fear that gnaw in the pit of your stomach, and the desperation to know what was going on has you restless. 

You're tempted to reach into the fire, to feel something other than the uneasy blend of emotions. You wonder how the fire would feel like, crawling up your skin, eating away at the dress you wore. It would probably feel better than the bile that creeps up your throat, the idea of people dying in your name making you ill.

“Y/n,” Matsukawa calls out to you weakly.

Spinning around, you find him bleeding out on the floor, a blade stuck through his chest.

“Issei!” You choke, rushing to his side. God, there was so much blood. Why was there so much blood?

“Issei, hang on, I’ll go get someone, please,” you cry out, pressing down on the edges of the mortal wound unsurely. 

“It’s no use, I won’t survive this.” His smile is a broken one, filled with blood and regret. “I’ll die here, in your name.”

“No, Issei, please,” your hands flutter around his wound, trying your best to staunch the bleeding, but it only causes the blood to surge out more, staining your hands and the pale white chemise you wore.

He coughs roughly, his whole body convulsing in pain. 

“Because of you,” he gasps out, “I will die here, without a future, for a spoiled brat who isn't worth my life.”

You recoil from his harsh words.

“No, it's not- Issei-” 

All you can do is repeat his name helplessly as he tells you of the future he has lost, choked out between shallow breaths and bloody coughs.

With every word, the blood spreads until you are soaked in it, drenched with the blood of your best friend, with the blood of those who have died because of you tonight. 

“ _ It’s your fault _ . _ It’s your fault. It’s yOUR FAULT. IT’S YOUR FAU- _ ”

You jolted awake, chest heaving as you rushed to the window, the moonlight illuminating your clean hands. They were clean. They were clean. They were  _ clean _ .

(So why the hell can you still feel the stickiness of blood dripping from your hands and down your body?)

The words bounced around in your head, leaving a pounding headache in their wake. The cold sweat covering your body has you shifting uncomfortably as your heart raced, the overwhelming guilt and fear still racing through your veins.

“Issei,” you whispered, clenching your eyes shut. “Issei, I’m so sorry.”

You sat there, slumped against the cool stone of the walls until day broke, your hands clenched into tight fists, leaving crescent moons imprinted into the velvety skin of your palm. 

That was how your ladies found you. With poorly disguised looks of pity, they hoisted you up and got you ready for the day. The soft chatter that flowed around you steadied you, pulling your mind back from the crumbling edge. 

Today was not the day you would lose your mind, your spirit. Issei would have wanted you to live for him. It was what he gave his life for. 

Today, you will not break.

Akasuki helped you out of the now-cool bath, drying you off and fitting you into your armor for the day, painting on your mask with deft strokes of her gentle hand.

A firm knock on the door had one of your ladies rushing to it, peering out at the visitor. A few words later, and she pulled back into the room with a letter in hand.

“Your highness, this is for you.” She bowed deeply and opened the letter for you to read. Your eyes scan it quickly.

“I’m to join Prince Tsukishima in the gardens for a walk it seems.”

Akasuki merely nodded in response as she applied the finishing touches. “Just in time then.”

You swept through the long, arching corridors, guards and servants alike bowing out of your way hastily. Your mask was a fragile thing today, paper-thin and fragile. It was crinkled and weak, and just a wrong touch would send it crumbling. The strength you have is only enough to keep it up until you make it to the gardens, and a single short glance from Tsukishima already had it cracking once more.

“You look terrible.”

The carefully crafted smile fell as your eyes relaxed into a tired indifference, your face sagging with exhaustion. You shot him a tired glare.

“And you’re  _ such  _ a gentleman.” Your voice lacked the sarcasm meant for the statement, and the brittleness of it had you wincing internally.

Tsukishima held his arm out - the one with the red string entwined around it, you noted with exhausted amusement - and you entwined your arm around it. The contact was steadying, and your next breath came easier. The pressure on your head eased as Tsukishima tugged you closer ever so slightly.

“Shall we?” He tilted his head down at you. “Or are you too unwell for even a stroll?”

The scowl that slipped onto your face is less than ladylike and would have your etiquette teachers fainting if they saw it. You didn't bother dignifying his dig with a response, tugging roughly on his arm as you strode forward.

The casual conversation that flowed as you walked through the Tsukishima’s royal gardens washed away any lingering memory of the haunting dream, and you found yourself laughing at Tsukishima’s dry humor. He would have gotten along well with Issei, you noted with a wistful smile.

You learnt that day that Tsukishima was a fan of bones (“Paleontology,” he had snapped at your teasing. “Fossil bones, not just any bones.”), he has a sweet tooth, and he enjoys music (“Not the horrid song we danced to last night, but proper music.” He insisted on playing for you after lunch.).

The remaining days blurred together as you spent most of your time with Prince Tsukishima exploring the castle grounds, visiting the nearby village, and even sneaking out one night to stargaze. The last day of your stay was spent in the grand ballroom where a grand piano sat, and Tsukishima taught you how to play.

His slender fingers covered yours as he guided your hands over the keys, and you found yourself closing your eyes, losing yourself to the melody that flooded the ballroom. Your eyes flew open when you realized what you were playing.

“Isn’t this-”

“The song we danced to on the first day? Yes, it is.” He smiled down at you softly.

You grin at him, your eyes lighting up. “Why, I thought you said it was a horrid song!”

His nose crinkled up in distaste even as your fingers continue to dance haltingly across the keys. “It is, but you like it, so I thought I’d teach you.” A note of uncertainty slipped into his voice, a wrong key slipping from his careful control.

“I do like it, thank you, Prince Tsukishima.”

“Kei. Call me Kei.” His voice was soft as the song came to an end, his brown eyes locked onto yours, his smile turning bashful.

“Kei,” you repeated after him. “Call me Y/n.”

* * *

You were just barely past the edge of sleep, your mind a floating mess of thoughts and images from the week’s events. Prince Tsukishima sat at the centre of it, and the memory that shone the brightest is him smiling at you, with that soft, vulnerable look in his usually guarded eyes. 

“Kei,” he had whispered. “Call me Kei.”

You could feel yourself flushing even as you entered a light sleep-

Your body jerked upright, eyes flying open as your heart thundered, panic jolting through you in jerky waves. Wild eyes searched the room for the cause of this, and a constricting feeling on your pinky where the string lay drew your attention. It was almost painful, and the fear radiating through it seeped into your bones.

But what are you so afraid for?

(You don’t realize that the fear comes from Tsukishima, who’s chambers are at the opposite end of the wing. You don’t see the thin line slit across his throat, red spraying from his pale neck as he tries to claw his way towards the door to find someone,  _ anyone _ to protect you.)

Your fingers curl around the string, trying to steady yourself against the silent scream of emotions in the too-quiet night.

(You don’t see the all-consuming panic as he chokes on his blood, nor the terror in his eyes as the life seeps out of him.)

The string is pulled so taut you’re afraid it might snap, and the intensity of the multitude of emotions flowing off of it is enough to tug you out of bed.

(You don’t see him reaching helplessly for you even in his last moments, nails dripping red from the effort that it takes to crawl to the door. You don’t see his head dropping to the ground with a sickening thud, eyes going dull as his desperate grip on the string is released.)

Just as your bare feet touch the cool floor, there’s an audible snap that has you lurching backwards, the string going lax and dissolving right before your eyes. Your back meets a hard surface that you  _ know  _ isn’t your bed, and a knife slides across your throat before you even have time to feel afraid. 

The last thing you see are the red specks of the string’s remnants floating in the air as you choke on the blood that pours down your neck, the memory of a bright smile and an outstretched hand flashing-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the continuation will be posted under the same collection as 'the journey back', so keep an eye out for it!


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